Lost in the Wind
by tongonothing
Summary: Ruby and Weiss find themselves at the whim of the world.
1. let me in

_LET_

 _ME  
_

 _IN?_

* * *

Crimson specks dotted her suit, its formerly commanding presence now grown oppressive, clawing at Ruby's heart. Her face shone as if it never had before, wearing a gaze that froze her nerves and comforted the parts of her mind she would never admit to having. Oh how her hair glowed in the moonlight, pristine-

 _tap tap_

And her hands. Cloaked in red. The mesmerizing mixture of skin and blood. Two fingers gripped the note, the once innocent message surrounded by the fingerprints of her handiwork.

Three unassuming words, along with a heart. Penciled in red, perfectly shaped, untouched by the human paint around it. Ruby could have sworn it was her own, that her soul was held up by this angel of death that stood outside her window.

The irises of the angel _pulled_. And Ruby could do nothing but obey, lost in the unsaid promises of a maiden that returned her stare tenfold. Shuffling forward, she felt her entire body caught between freezing to the spot and being sucked towards the angel clad in white and red.

She knows the windows are locked. She knows they're bulletproofed for a reason.

 _She doesn't care._

So despite her limbs trembling, despite the _screaming_ of every rational thought, she threw open the window.

Now she was on the ground. Walls doubled. The ceiling spun. But in that moment, the glistening of a freshly painted face, the _almost loving_ face was the only thing that kept its beautiful shape. It was the only thing that mattered. It grew closer and closer, it filled her eyes and ears and nose and _oh gosh_ _it's so pretty_ -

.

.

.

?

One eye. One silver, traitorous eye _dared_ to peek from its curtain. And was snatched up by that pair, frostbitten and abandoned. They pulled apart the other curtain and then she could _see_.

Behind the blizzard, behind the blue and grey clouds. The Northern Lights. The faint spectrums of life, away from the graves, away from the cold, away from the loss. The light without a sun.

She understood. Lost in the control, the power over the winds that the other had never felt before, she understood.


	2. who are we

_WHO_

 _ARE_

 _WE?_

* * *

She knew who _she_ was. Or at least here, towering above of a trembling pondwater-haired body, she did.

Here, she controlled the elements.  
Here, she tamed the storm.

She took the once-mighty snowstorm by the neck. For the first time, everything was at her fingertips.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Nature's Wrath was bent, twisted, smothered by her fury. It speared him through the concrete, immobilized his arms in sub-zero fury.

He'd struggle. He'd test his limbs, find that his legs still functioned. He'd flail around, trying to get away until he realized.  
The illusion of movement.

He'd beg. He'd grovel and weep, in the same way she did for him. He'd call her "honey", "princess", all the sweet nothings under the long-gone sun.  
The illusion of choice.

He'd obey. He'd follow her to the end, together. He'd light up her entire sky, if only she would let him go.  
The illusion of hope.

And then it would be his turn.

His turn to _feel_ the cutting gales of rejection on his face, the crashing hail of despair on his ribs, the crackle of every single bone in his legs  
the world snuffing

every

single

last

flame.

Until there was no more left, of either of their former souls.


	3. help me please

_HELP_

 _ME_

 _PLEASE?_

* * *

Pure white adorned the indifferent trees as she forced her feet through the unwavering snow. She looked around for her own great oak, her roots to the once-familiar ground. Once upon a time, they would gaze out upon the relatives of Mama Nature, the four of them,  
the soft crimson whisper on the wind  
the unyielding tower of all bark and no bite  
the cozy wildfire entangling them all.

Now it was gone.

First it was mother herself, vibrant as the light off the morning dew. For all her vibrance, no creature could stand up to nature's bared teeth and hungry claws when it truly wanted something gone. The grand forest had lost its luster that day, but Ruby could still find her faces in between carved oaks and perfectly spaced stepping stones out on the shimmering lake.

The winds grew harsher.

Then came the sisterly flame, with all the warmth that a beating heart needed. Away for a day, a week, a month, until the skies that Ruby saw burnt out as well. The woods no longer felt alive, no more dancing with shadows or warm caresses.

Now only the oak remained.

Or what was left of it, starved of light and heat, buried in its own dried up fluids. Once mighty, once full of life, now shriveled up, bent in ways that shouldn't be bent.

The winds broke loose.

Directionless and violent, cutting and crying, it became the force of nature it always was, swearing to rip apart the entire world

limb

from

limb.


	4. do we match

_DO_

 _WE_

 _MATCH?_

* * *

Weiss pondered this as she gazed upon the hooded creature, its unkempt fabric a pale imitation of the love that once shone. The cloak shuddered and shook about violently, gazing at the aftermath in all of its unshackled glory.

Stumps furnished the newly created graveyard of trees. Dead limbs lay silently at its feet, torn open by the winds of the creature and the world. The only sign of life still left on the ground was the father oak, mangled and bleeding out.

Its ribs and shoulders had been uprooted, now twisting upwards senselessly. Any beating of the heart had ceased long before today, now covered in a frost without the warmth it lived off of.

It was a frost Weiss knew all too well.

Doors, windows, were frozen shut, the ice 'protecting' her from the world outside her caged room. People came and went, passing through her barriers as if they never existed, and they were cold.

So cold. The torches sitting next to her bed lay snuffed out. She could not remember if they were ever lit in the first place, cradling her gently, whispering soft words into the night that would never be.

And then came her father, furious at the world and everything but her. He grabbed her collar and - _agh daddy please dont hurt me ill be a good little girl-_

the ground hurt. Every little gasp of heaven brought her closer to seeing what had become of dear daddy.

First it was the shoes. The sparkle of something polished beyond what it should be. Then the suit, commandingly present death and despair. His face.

Was there the shadow of a smile, proud of a daughter snubbed by life's light?  
Was there the twist of a frown, furious of a daughter unmarred by life's storm?  
Everything blurred together, past and present.

But she could see what he was staring at,  
two stones that sat together in their natural slumber,  
mother and sister returned to the ground they came from.

"It should have been you."


End file.
